The Heart of Lisbon

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James Mayor explores the history of Rossio, one of Europe’s most famous squares

Many great European cities are built around an emblematic central square, a swirling meeting place of history, culture and communities. Piazza Navona is to Rome what Trafalgar Square is to London, Madrid has Plaza Mayor and Prague its Staromák. Lisbon has Rossio.

Often these squares are presided over by a statue of a king, on horseback or atop a column, an unquestionable symbol of authority. The monarchs reigned for a few years, whilst the squares evolved to reflect society’s changing belief systems, new political regimes and fashion. In the 19th century, Rossio was officially named Praça Dom Pedro IV, the king on the column in its centre, but the name never caught on – the Lisbon population preferring the more colloquial Rossio, which loosely translated means ‘common ground’, a reference to the square’s origins as an area of common land beyond the limits of the early city perched on a hill around a castle.

The Art Deco Hotel Métropole, on Rossio’s west side, is an ideal base for a visitor to Lisbon not shy of urban vibe. Book a room on an upper floor and gaze out of the window over the square where, in spring, the jacaranda trees scatter their lilac blooms over the undulating wave patterns of the pavement. At the southern end of the square a flower stall offers a vivid bouquet of colour and at night, 20th-century dictator Salazar’s romanticised restoration of the castle floats lit above the city.

The 15th century Estaus Palace was built to offer hospitality to foreign dignitaries and visiting noblemen, before becoming the seat of the Catholic Inquisition. For several centuries, autos-da-fé – public penance rituals in condemnation of heretics and Jews, that in their most extreme form involved death by burning – were held in Rossio. Outside the São Domingos church, a plaque bears moving testimony to a horrific massacre of Jews in 1506.

The powerful 1755 earthquake, and ensuing fire, destroyed most of the medieval buildings that originally ringed the square, a moment of national trauma that brought huge loss of life. Among the early buildings swept away was the vast All Saints Royal Hospital. “Where was God?”, many asked, including the French philosopher Voltaire, the foundations of their religious belief shaken like those of the city.

Under the energetic direction of the Marquis of Pombal, the Baixa Pombalina rose from the ruins, laid out as a grid system of plain facades, the world’s earliest urban development of anti-seismic architecture. The district spreads north from the broad Tagus River estuary to culminate at Rossio.

HOTEL AVENIDA

The disasters were not over, however. In the late 20th century, a series of fires ravaged prominent buildings in the square’s vicinity: the Baroque São Domingos church had its wooden roof destroyed in 1959, the charred interior and Sienna red walls remaining as a theatrical monument; the neoclassical Dona Maria II National Theatre was gutted in 1964; finally, in 1988, an entire neighbourhood of Chiado, at the south-western corner of Rossio, was engulfed in a vast fire that ripped through department stores and irreplaceable specialist shops. Portugal’s favourite national architect, Álvaro Siza Vieira, was chosen to lead the rebuilding project.

In the 19th and early 20th centuries, Chiado and Rossio provided meeting places for the social and intellectual elites of the day, Modernists following on the heels of Romantics. Next to the pocket-sized newsagent Tabacaria Mónaco, with its azulejo tiles of frogs, the great 19th-century writer Eça de Queiroz was a regular customer at Café Nicola, where he presided over a literary club.

The elegant and bohemian could stroll across the square to buy headwear at Chapelaria Azevedo Rua, soft leather gloves in bright colours at Luvaria Ulisses, or drop into Espingardaria Central for fencing gear or even a revolver. If they felt in need of restoration, a shot of ginjinha, a liquor made by infusing Morello cherries in brandy, from hole-in-a-wall A Ginjinha, would do the trick. All these establishments are still in operation today!

Another hotel of character is the 1890s’ Avenida: during World War II, Salazar maintained strict neutrality and an open-house policy for victims and rogues alike, creating ideal conditions for every shade of espionage. ‘Treasure’, a Russian émigré of exotic beauty, entertained her German lover at Avenida, gathering important information for the Allies. The hotel is conveniently located next to the Rossio station, with its scrolling neo-Manueline façade, departure point for the dreamy hilltop palaces and gardens of Sintra.

In a narrow alleyway behind the Dona Maria II National Theatre, in the appropriately named Travessa do Forno street, lies one of Lisbon’s better surviving family-run tascas, A Provinciana, notable for its collection of clocks and cured hams, serves patient customers.

The horrors of contemporary retailing have not succeeded in denting Rossio’s charms. The square is appealingly cosmopolitan and distinctly Lisboeta, surrounded by neighbourhoods that have each essentially retained their character: Mouraria, birthplace of Fado; Bairro Alto with its clubs and bars; Avenida de Liberdade, Lisbon’s ‘Champs Elysees’, with its gardens and kiosks.

First published in Essential Algarve, August 2025